Defying Gravity
by michallev
Summary: Kurt was attacked, will he be able to trust his friends enough to accept their support? Warning - graphic imaging, mention of rape and abuse.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey fag", Kurt heard someone calling. He picked up his pace a little, held his head a bit higher and just kept walking.

"Hey, we're talking to you", the guy shouted again. Kurt didn't recognize his name. He wasn't anyone from school. He looked around him without slowing down or turning his head. The street was deserted and it was getting dark. It wasn't nighttime yet, but the cold weather, made the twilight seem darker. It was going to rain soon.

It was late Friday afternoon and he was walking home from school. Rehearsal ended a little later than usual and he stayed in the auditorium afterwards to practice the new song they were given. By the time he finished the school was deserted. There was no one around to give him a ride back home, and he didn't want to bother his father. He had enough to deal with as it is.

"Hey!" this time it was another guy calling. "You fucking queen, don't pretend like you didn't hear us".

"Those fags… think they can just dress like that in public… do their pervasive stuff in public… disgusting." They were talking between them now, and they were more than two. The whole thing just made him feel unease. Not really scared, but not feeling completely safe.

Suddenly Kurt felt a sharp pain between his shoulders blade – they through something at him – and it hurt.

Kurt was starting to get a little panicked. There were several of them and there was no one around. He walked faster now, almost running, but was suddenly grabbed from behind.

"I was talking to you", the first guy whispered in his ear. His voice low and seductive. His tone of voice made Kurt skin crawl.

"Let me go", Kurt demanded, but he couldn't keep the quiver out of his voice.

"We just want to talk", the other guy said, putting his arm around his shoulder, the other two blocking his way. "Little queer like you should take it as a compliment" he smiled maliciously at him. The other guys came closer too. They were all bigger than him, and he didn't like the way they looked at him. He tried to ignore them and just keep walking, but they wouldn't let him leave. The guy that stood the closest to him suddenly turned around so he was facing him, grabbing his shoulders and squeezing hard.

"What's the hurry?" he asked and low voice, which turned his blood ice cold.

"Let me go!" He shouted and quickly turned around and tried to run a way. But they were faster. They grabbed his shirt – the collar pressing his larynx – making him feel like he was chocking. He tried to get free again but was struck across the face. His vision blurred for a second and he nearly lost his balance. The three guys used his momentary lethargy and pulled him away from the street and into a deserted dark playground.

"Pleas… Please let me go…." He sounded desperate.

He was punched in the face again, this time he completely blacked out for a few seconds.

When Kurt came to he was lying on his back behind the slides, completely hidden from the street. The first feeling he had was true and utter panic. Something was shoved in his mouth so he won't be able to scream and the feeling made him gag. He could see the guy standing over him, examining him, and to his utter fear he could clearly see that he was aroused. He was being held firmly in place by the other two guys. One, a tall skinny guy, held his legs and another younger guy held his arms in place.

He shook his head, once he fully understood what was about to happen, silently pleading for them to stop.

Kurt couldn't help it, but he felt tears well up in his eyes before sliding down the side of his face into the cold ground.

He then felt their arms all over his body, touching him and caressing him. The feeling making him nauseous. He trashed and tried the best he could to break free, but they tightened their grip so hard, it would bruise.

Out of sheer panic he managed to get one of his legs free and kicked the young guy across the face.

"God damn it", the guy immediately let go and grabbed his face. "I think the queer broke my nose".

Kurt kicked again, harder this time, and rolled on his stomach in preparation to get up but a strong kick to his ribs send him sprawling back on the floor. He couldn't breathe for a second. He felt all the air leave his lungs and tried to curl on his side to ease the pain. He was granted another kick to the stomach and then another and another, until he just laid there motionless just focusing on drawing air into his body. His head was then roughly pushed against the floor, the pain both blinding him and making him dizzy.

He was being firmly held in place once more, this time lying flat on his stomach.

He tried to fight again, but the two guys were prepared this time and held him in place.

He suddenly felt his pants being pulled off, and a strong since of dread consumed him. He squirmed and violently trashed, trying to break free. But it didn't help. He could tell that the more he tried to fight them the more excited they got, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't lie still. He tried to scream, he tried until his throat felt raw, but no voice came out. He was crying harder now, warm tears, that blurred his vision and made his eyes sting alittle.

_It's not real, it's not real, it's not real_, he told himself over and over again, as he felt a sharp hot white pain from behind. _It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real_._ It's not real, it's not real, it's not real. _

And then just as sudden as the pain came it was gone, and then Kurt heard something that stopped his heart cold.

"It's my turn".

---

Kurt remained lying on the ground along time after it was all over. It took him all of his energy just to pull his pants back up, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He pulled the cloth that was shoved in his mouth and tried to say something out loud, but no voice came out.

His entire body hurt. He was shaking uncontrollably, the tremors causing his muscles to spasm and it hurt. He knew that he had to get up somehow. Had to get back home. It was already late, and if he isn't home by the time his dad gets there, he'll get worried. He didn't want his dad to worry about him.

The thought of his father, waiting for him, while he was lying there, made his throat tighten, and caused new tears to well in his eyes. He loves his dad so much. This would destroy him, if he ever finds out. He can never find out.

The shaking grew worse, his teeth were chattering, and he didn't know if it was from the cold, or the pain or the thought of what had just happened. He felt tears well up in his eyes before sliding down his face, and well up in his eyes again. He couldn't stop crying.

It had started to rain some time before and now he was completely soaked. His clothes clung to his body. He took a deep breath but was struck with a pain so intense and sharp in his ribs that made him draw short shallow breathing. The lack of oxygen making him feel like he was drowning, like he will never be able to breathe again. His breathing was erratic now, he was hyperventilating and it made him dizzy. So he tried again after a few minutes. He took another deep breath, this time preparing himself for the pain. He held his breath and then slowly exhaled. Then he drew another breath and another until he was calmer. He still couldn't stop the tears from falling or the shaking to subside.

He braced himself for the pain to come and slowly pushed him self up, using the slide for support. He only managed to get into a semi-sitting position, before the pain so intense he had to stop and sit down. He sat down on the slide, his own weight making the pain so much worse. To his fear he suddenly realized – he couldn't get up.

Not on his own anyways.

He checked his watch. It was almost seven thirty PM. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and out of habit started to dial his father's number. He almost hit the call button and then stopped. He couldn't call his dad. This will kill him. He was so upset after he had received that phone call, saying that his son was a fag. Kurt said that it wasn't a big deal, that he got it all the time. He was lying. It was a big deal, and it hurt to hear it every and each time. But his dad wasn't used to it at all. He said that he didn't want to see him get hurt. What will he say when he'll see Kurt like this? It will break him. He can't do this to his dad, he just can't.

He tried to decide who else to call to come pick him up. He couldn't call anyone who goes to school with him, because then it will be all over school and his life will be over. He can't call Mr. Shue, cause he'll make him tell his dad.

Maybe he should call Mercedes. She won't tell anyone if he asks her not to. He could imagine her face when she'd get there. Her sweet face, with her kind eyes. With her "you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are speech". How could he face her? Tell her that he was so humiliated and hurt and ashamed. He couldn't face her. He couldn't face anyone right now.

The realization hit Kurt hard, and it physically hurt him to admit it. There is no one. There is no one he can call when he's hurt and alone and just need a ride back home. No one.

That thought, the feeling of being so so alone, made him cry even harder, which made his breathing erratic again, which made the pain worse, which made him cry harder. He needed to get a grip.

He wiped the tears with the back of his hand and drew several deep and painful breaths. He'll just have to get back home on his own.

Kurt tried to prepare himself for the pain that will surely hit him once he stood up, but he felt surprisingly numb when he used the railing for support and pulled himself up. It didn't hurt as much as the thought it would. He only got slightly dizzy and swayed a little, but after a few seconds the world stopped spinning and he felt stable enough to walk. The sight of the blood on the slide where he sat a few seconds before, his blood, made him nauseous. He wiped it clean with the sleeved of his shirt, not even caring that it was brand new.

He wiped his face again with the back of his sleeves, and wasn't surprised when it came back even more bloody than before. He spotted his school bag a few feet away. Getting there wasn't too difficult, but when he bent over to pick it up, his ribs protested and he hissed in pain. Everything hurt.

He stretched back up, his bag in his hand and started the long painful way back home.

The walk back home took him nearly forty five minutes and by the time he finally got back he was ready to collapse. He was glad to see that his father wasn't home yet. He couldn't handle seeing him right now. His dad will take one look at him and know that something happened and then he'll have to lie about it, and he couldn't handle it right now. It felt like he had last seen his home a life time ago, though it was only this morning. It felt like a stranger's home.

Kurt opened the front door, dropped his bag in the hallway and went straight to the shower He stripped down and picked his cloths from the floor, ignoring the blood stains on the back of his pants or the way his shirt was torn a part, and put his bloody clothes into a plastic bag, which he will throw out later.

He then stood in front of the mirror to observe the damage that had been inflicted upon him. The kid staring back at him was like a stranger. He was so pale, tears glistering in his sad empty eyes.

He stood still like that for a few seconds, until he got so lightheaded, the room spinning faster and faster around him. He was sure he was going to pass out. The nausea actually took him by surprise. He dropped to his knees by the toilet and vomited violently. His stomach clenching and unclenching, the muscles on his back pulling, his ribs shifting painfully. He heaved for a long time until there was nothing in his stomach to expel but bile. The acidic bitter taste causing new tears to well in his eyes. After a few minutes the heaving finally subsided and Kurt forced himself to stretch back up. He rinsed his mouth and went back to checking his injuries.

His entire right side was covered with bruises. The worst were his ribs – they were covered with deep dark purple bruises. He could see bite marks on his collar bone and abdomen and the bruises around his neck where their hands pressed on him. He didn't remember them doing so. He then slowly looked up. The bruises on his face weren't nearly as bad as he thought they would be – they were clearly visible but nothing a little make up won't be able to conceal.

But the worse of it was the word they carved into his skin. Across his entire middle section the word "fag" was cut into his skin. He traced the cut with his fingers, just barely touching the skin. The cut wasn't deep. It probably won't even leave a scar, but it was the most painful of all of his injuries. A constant reminder of who he was.

Kurt forced himself away from the mirror. He turned the water in the bathtub to steaming hot and then stepped in. He put his head first under the water, feeling the water wash his tears away before streaming over the rest of his body, washing all memory of the past couple of hours. He watched mesmerized as the water turned a slight color of pink before disappearing down the drain. The hot water stung where he had been cut, but it was a good pain, it washed what had been done to him away.

He felt slightly better, purer already.

He stood like that under the water for a long time and then took the soap and washed his entire body, careful not to jar his ribs too much. But it wasn't enough. He could still feel them touching him. He could still smell them on his skin. He could still hear them laughing, their laughter increasing as he trashed and fought harder. He rubbed his skin the soap until it was red and raw and painful to the touch. He continued to stand there under the water unable to move.

He sobbed harder and harder under the water. His grief spilling off him in waves. He was nauseous again and he dry heaved in the shower. Shaking so hard he had to use the wall for support. Losing all sense of control over his body.

He stood like that under the water for a long time. Until the water was nearly ice cold and he was able to pull himself together. He then carefully went out of the shower and gently dried himself with a new towel. He pulled a new pair of boxer shorts that weren't too tight and sweat pants and shirt that were a size too big and slowly go dressed.

Kurt stepped out of the shower and went straight to bed. His father was back – he could hear him preparing dinner in the kitchen, but he couldn't even bring himself to say hello. He wasn't even sure he'll be able to speak. He also couldn't handle seeing his dad right now with his caring and loving look. He just couldn't.

He was so exhausted. He felt light headed from the heat of the shower and his room tilted on its axis. He felt like he was falling - he nearly collapsed on his bed when he finally reached it. He lowered himself carefully onto the bed, wincing a little as he sat down and got under the covers.

He rolled into a fetal position shutting his eyes, forcing himself to try and sleep. Knowing it was useless.

---

"Kurt? Hey, you there?" his father asked tentatively.

"I made dinner…" he stepped further into his room. Kurt just rolled onto the other side of his bed, facing away from his father.

He tried to speak, to answer back, just to let his dad know that he was fine, but no voice came out.

"Kurt?" his dad tried again.

"I'm just tired, dad, I think I'll cut it early." He finally managed to talk, the action hurting his already sore throat. His voice was barely above a whisper and sounded hoarse.

"Early? It's not even nine. What's the matter? Are you sick or something?" The concern in his father's voice made his throat tighten and new tears blurred his vision once again.

"I'm fine…" he mumbled, wiping the tears with his hand. He heard his father's heavy footsteps and felt a shift in his bed as his dad sat down besides him. He shot his eyes closed tight and curled further away from his dad.

"Hey, Kurt, hey… let me see" He leaned over him and gently placed his hand on his forehead. "You're feeling a little warm….." his dad stopped mid sentence, "what the hell happened to your face, Kurt?" his tone changed, the concern replaced by anger.

"Nothing" he whispered and rolled over on his stomach, burring his face in the pillow.

"Well, did 'nothing' have a fist?" His dad said as he tried to turn him over, using a little more force than necessary. Kurt couldn't help it, he immediately flinched the moment his dad had touched him.

"What? Kurt, what's wrong?" he sounded truly worried by now.

He was about to reply, to provide his dad with a simple lie that will protect him from the truth – like how he got elbowed by accident during practice, or walked into a door, or something like that – when another wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed hard trying to force the bile back, but it just made it worse. He pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to bolt out of bed in time, but the nausea was too strong – he started retching before he was able to get out of bed and rush to the toilet. So he just gave up and heaved on his bed, something that hasn't happened since he was a little kid, and his mom was still around to make it all better.

"Hey… it's okay… it's okay." His father soothed him as he drew circles slowly on his back. Kurt never got it, why people always do that when someone is sick, it didn't make the nausea subside, nor did it elevate some of the pain as his muscles crumpled with exertion. But it was oddly comforting somehow, that physical contact with his dad.

He heaved for another couple of minutes and then stretched up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled, not meeting his father's eyes. "I'll clean it up…" he got up and dangerously swayed on his feet.

"Hey…" His dad grabbed him gently and forced him to sit down on a chair. The pain struck him as he sat, and he stifled a groan, but luckily his dad didn't notice. "Sit down before you fall down. You're as white as these sheets. It's okay. I'll change this in no time" his dad said and stripped the sheets off his bed, threw them on the floor, and grabbed new ones from the linen closet.

His dad changed the sheets quickly and turned back to look at him.

"What happened?" he asked again, the anger gone this time.

"Nothing… really." He answered, lowering his gaze, tears welling up in his eyes again. And he thought that he was done crying. He sniffled and wiped the tears before they would fall, but he still refused to look at his dad.

"Look Kurt… whatever happened" His dad spoke to him again as he held his chin, forcing him to look at him "It's okay to sep away from a fight, to turn the other cheek once in a while. God knows, your mom was always drilling it to my head when I was younger. But you have got to stand up for yourself. It's not right…" his dad stopped talking for a while, and just for a split second Kurt thought that maybe he knew, and he wouldn't have to lie to him.

"It's just not right what these kids do to you…" Okay… Kurt thought, so maybe he doesn't know. apparently he looked insulted, hurt or something by his father's words, cause his dad spoke to him again. "It's going to be okay… you just fight them harder next time… show them that no one messes with the Hummels, okay?"

"Okay…" he whispered, giving his father what he needed to hear. He then stood slowly back up and curled back to bed, turning his back on his father.

He waited for his father to leave his room, but to his surprise his dad just sat next to him again and stroke his hair. They just sat like that in silence – his dad gently stroking his hair, like his mom used to do when he was little. He started silently crying attain, letting the tears run down the bridge of his nose and soak the bed and prayed that his dad won't notice. After what seemed like a long time he was finally able to close his eyes again, and submit to the exhaustion. He was asleep within minutes.

---

A/N – okay… this chapter didn't turn out to be nearly as long as I hoped… but it's as good as it gets, I guess.

I have to admit (and please don't hate me for it) – I'm not good with updating and stuff. I'll try to explain – it's like I have this plot line that I like, which I play with over and over in my head, but once I put it on paper the urge to write seems to evaporate… sometimes I get that urge again, sometimes I don't. So, on the account that I might not finish/continue this Fic, I'd like to put it up for adoption (I've tried this before with another fic, and didn't get any response… - hopefully it'll be different this time.) – if you liked this plot line and want to continue it, please feel free to do so. You can continue it as you'd like. Just let me know, so I'll be able to find your stories.

Michal


	2. Chapter 2

"And down, two three, clap, clap. And turn, two, three, clap, slide, clap, turn, clap, clap" Mr. Shue was going over the new choreography for the new number they have been working on for the last two rehearsals. It wasn't a very difficult routine, even the vocal part wasn't too complicated, but Kurt just didn't seem to get it. His mind was a thousand miles away.

He spent the entire weekend in bed. Too hurt to really do anything, but also too afraid that his dad might find out what had happened – so he pretended to not feel well all weekend. His dad left him alone, for most of the time. Entering his room every few hours to check up on him, take his temperature, which was slightly high, to Kurt's surprise, and making sure that he was eating his toast or whatever and got enough fluids.

He ignore his friends over the weekend, telling them that he was sick in bed, which was mostly true, and politely text them not to come over. His entire body hurt. His bruised ribs caused him sharp pain every time he shifted position and made it slightly difficult to breathe. He also still bled a little. He was really worried about that at first, but the bleeding subsided over the weekend, so Kurt simply assumed he was healing just fine.

On Monday, his dad suggested that he stayed home another day or two, just to get his strength up. He was probably right. Just getting out of bed and fixing his hair drained him of all his energy. Climbing up the stairs into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before school, had left him panting and slightly out of breath. But Kurt didn't want to draw too much attention. His friends were already worried. He just wanted to pretend that nothing ever happened. He needed to move on; to put this terrible ordeal behind him. He needed to get back to his old routine.

So Kurt, put on more make up than usual to cover his more than usual paleness, along with the bruises, made himself and his dad coffee and informed him that he was feeling fine, just a 24 hour bug or something.

"More like 72." His dad mumbled in response, but he didn't push the matter.

And that's how Kurt found himself in a glee club rehearsal after 8 long and painful hours of school. Trying his best not to show that he was hurting and holding himself upright, when all he wanted to do was to crawl back to bed and fold into a fetal position.

The dance routine they were going over made the pain even worse. It was hard enough to bend over and stretch back up so fast. But the sitting on a chair and flailing his leg, like Mr. Shue wanted, was pure agony. He had to stop singing every time they got to that part in order to suck in his breath and not to scream out in pain.

"Stop… Stop" Mr. Shue called. "Okay… Tina, that's down, two three, clap, clap on the count of four. And Kurt… What are you doing? You're not paying any attention. Concentrate. It's not that hard… you had it right last time, when we practiced on Friday." He said, sounding just a little disappointed. The thought of last Friday, made Kurt start to sweat, his heart beat became faster and it all felt a little too hot, a little too noisy and crowded. It was getting harder to breathe. Kurt closed his eyes, resting his hands on the back of the chair to keep his balance and forced himself to draw even deep breaths.

"Okay… let's just take it from the top. Just the dance routine, without the song." Mr. Shue called out to them, pulling Kurt out of his daze.

The piano was playing in the background as Mr. Shue went over the moves again as they continued to practice: "And down, two, three, clap, clap. And turn…"

"Hey, watch it, fag." Noah Puckerman hissed in a harsh tone at Kurt, as he accidently ran into him when he turned right instead of left. Kurt froze on his spot. Hearing that word brought it all back. He was trembling a little, and all color was draining fast from his already pale face. His sudden stop caused the rest of his group to slam into one another in a comic reaction, resembling a set of dominos. But Kurt was oblivious to his surrounding. No one seemed to notice his distress, nor did they hear Puck's venomous offensive words. No on but Racher, who stood right beside him.

"Kurt. You have got to focus. Where's your head today? Your singing off key… messing the dance moves. Concentrate…. I know you can do this."

"He called him a fag", it was Rachel of all people that had to butt in, why can't she just mind her own business?

Mr. Shue turned around "What?"

"I said, he called him a fag and –"

"Noah, is that true?" Will asked in a harsh voice turning his attention to Puck, deliberately calling him by his first name, and not the nickname everyone used.

"I don't need your help" Kurt hissed at her, trying to control his sudden anger.

"I was just trying to –"

"Well don't. I can stand up for my self. I don't need do be protected by a girl"

"Look Kurt, I wasn't saying that you can't protect yourse –" Rachel tried to explain herself, but Kurt didn't give her the chance.

"Just mind your own fucking business!" He shouted and to his and hers utter surprise he shoved her hard, using enough force to send her crashing to the floor. The whole glee club stood there in shock. Kurt stared down at Rachel, his eyes wide and shocked. He looked even more frightened than she did. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Mr. Shue asked rushing to her side. "What's wrong with you, Kurt?" He asked him as he kneeled by her.

"Don't you ever lay your hands on her." Finn was the first of the glee club members to finally move. "Do you hear me? Don't ever do that again" He rose to his full height, towering over Kurt. "What's wrong with you?" He too asked as he grabbed his shoulder trying to force Kurt to turn around and face him.

Kurt flinched and backed away, stumbling slightly over Artie's wheel chair. He felt them again, touching him, hurting him and caressing him at the same time. He could feel their hot breath on him, could feel their hands all over his body.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted, starring at Finn with big frightened eyes.

"Kurt?" Mercedes asked timidly, she was the first one to draw her attention away from Rachel and focused on Kurt instead.

"Just stay away from me!" He cried out again backing off some more. "Don't touch me! Just stay away! All of you" He shouted again, backing against the door.

He suddenly seemed to realize where he was. It was like coming out of a dream. The entire glee club was staring at him in shock. Rachel was standing now, fixing her skirt. Mr. Shue looked at him, in confusion, his hand slightly raised, as if he were trying to reach him.

He just couldn't look at them. What the hell did he do? He couldn't breathe there in the auditorium. He couldn't focus. The room was too small. The walls were closing in on him.

He suddenly spun on his heels and fled the auditorium, Quinn's question "What the hell?" echoing after him.

Mercedes got up to leave after him, but Finn beat her to it. There was something about Kurt, that made him want to go after him and make sure that he was okay. Sure, everyone was a little worried about his outburst. It wasn't like Kurt Hummel to lash at people. Finn didn't think he'd ever seen him like that – He never used any violence (well at least not a non-verbal, physical one) – and he couldn't remember ever hearing him curse before. The whole scene made him feel unease. But it wasn't just that. When he touched him, he tensed up so quickly, Finn could feel his muscles pulling and when he looked at him his eyes were unfocused and frightened. He was scared. Kurt was actually scared that he would hurt him. He's never seen Kurt afraid before.

"I'll go" He mumbled and took off after Kurt.

---

"Kurt? Are you in there?"

"I didn't mean to –"

Finn found Kurt in the boys' bathroom on the second floor. He opened the door carefully; sort of afraid of what he might find once he got inside. He tried to approach Kurt again, but he didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. He was crying. It confirmed Finn's suspicions that the guy wore makeup – the thin eyeliner was all smeared from the tears, making Kurt's appearance even more concerning.

He tried again. "Kurt?"

This time Kurt actually looked up at him. "I didn't mean to push her… I didn't mean to. You have to believe me." He sounded so desperate.

"I know you didn't –"

"Is she okay? Did I hurt her?

"She's fine, she didn't even fall that –"

"God, I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, you said it already"

"I'm not a violent person…" He had that look again – like he was looking right at Finn but he didn't see him.

"Kurt… Hey Kurt, look at me" He tried to get his attention once again.

Kurt looked up again and Finn noticed that his eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused. What the hell happened to the guy?

"I know you're not violent. Rachel knows you're not violent. Everybody knows it." He tried to level with him, to get him to listen.

"Is she really okay?" He asked quietly, lowering his eyes. He suddenly couldn't face Finn.

"Yeah, she's really okay." He paused for a few seconds, hoping that he got through to Kurt. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" He didn't seem to understand, he just couldn't focus, couldn't produce one coherent thought.

"Are – you – okay?" Finn asked slowly, like he was talking to a child.

Kurt looked at him again and didn't answer at first, but Finn seemed really and truly concerned, like he actually cared. He felt his eyes water again, and wiped the tears with his sleeve. He didn't even care that the eyeliner staining his shirt. And that shocked Finn more than anything. Kurt was always so careful when it came down to his wardrobe.

"I don't know…" He finally answered in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

"I'm not a fag..." He suddenly blurted out.

"What?" Finn wasn't sure that he'd heard right.

"I'm not a…" He took a deep shuddered breath "I'm not a fag".

Finn didn't understand. Puck's words couldn't have caused such a reaction – after all, Kurt's been called that before, and he never seemed to be too bothered by it.

"I don't understand. You pushed Rachel because of Puck?"

"If I showed you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?" Kurt asked in that desperate tone again. Finn couldn't understand what the hell he was talking about. The guy didn't make any sense.

But Kurt sounded like he really wanted to show what ever it was to Finn, like his life depended on it. He probably hesitated a bit because Kurt asked him again: "Promise me. You have to promise me."

"Yeah… okay… I promise." Finn wasn't really sure he was doing the right thing, promising Kurt he'd keep his mouth shut, but it seemed like the only way to get him to open up.

"You have to swear not to tell anyone. Swear on your mother's life, on the life of the unborn child you thought was yours. Swear. You've got to swear not to tell anyone" He nearly shouted.

"Okay. Okay, I swear." What the hell was going on?

Kurt nodded slightly and to Finn's surprise started to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" He asked, the whole scene was just too surreal. And then he saw it. It was the firs thing that he noticed – the word "FAG" was cut into Kurt's body. It covered most of his torso. It didn't seem deep, but the red fresh cut stood out against his pale skin.

"What the hell?" He asked in shock moving a little closer to Kurt. Then he noticed the bruises that also covered Kurt's body. And suddenly he saw the faint bruises on Kurt's face – how could he have missed it before?

Kurt buttoned his shirt again; it took him several tries, since his hands were trembling slightly. But he finally seemed more in control.

"Kurt, who did this to you?" Finn asked, trying to control his anger at whoever did this to Kurt, trying not to let it show how upsetting it was.

Kurt didn't answer. "You can't tell anyone. I mean it, Finn, you – can't – tell – anyone" He emphasized each word.

"When…?" Finn asked quietly.

"Friday. After rehearsal.

"Did you…? Were you…." He tried to ask the question – he was almost sure that getting beat up wasn't the only abuse Kurt endured on Friday, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He stepped closer to Kurt – and couldn't help it but feel a little bit insulted when he flinched and backed away – but he didn't back off.

"Was there more to it?" He finally managed to say, looking up straight into Kurt deep blue-green eyes.

Kurt lowered his eyes again, feeling ashamed. He did not answer. He wiped the tears again before saying: "remember, you promised. No one can know about this. No one."

Kurt then turned away from Finn and faced the mirror. He started wiping the eyeliner he will never admit that he uses, with some dry paper, and fixed his hair a little, using his slender fingers as a comb. When he was sure he was fully composed once again, he turned to face Finn. If you hadn't been looking you wouldn't even know that he was crying.

"What are you going to do?" Finn asked quietly.

"I'm going back to rehearsal."

"That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, I know what you meant." Kurt answered dejectedly. "And I'm going back to rehearsal" He opened the bathroom door and held it open for Finn. "Remember your promise" he said again as Finn past him by.

They went back to the auditorium and didn't speak the entire way back. Finn couldn't really think about anything to say, and Kurt was just too exhausted to speak. As he pushed open the auditorium doors all eyes were on him.

He took a deep breath, put the mask back on and marched in walking over to Rachel, his head held high.

"Rachel… I'm so very sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please accept my deepest apology." He said in a monotonous voice.

"Apology accepted." Rachel answered in the same tone of voice.

"Are you okay, Kurt?" Mr. Shue asked. Kurt simply nodded.

"Okay guys, lets take this from the top – and down, two three clap, clap, and turn, two, three, clap, slide, clap, turn, clap, clap…"

---

"Mr. Shue, you got a minute?"

"Sure, Finn, what's on your mind?" Will turned to face Finn and stopped the task of arranging the auditorium after glee rehearsal.

"If you found out something about someone…. Something awful…." he had a really hard time finding the right words. It felt both right and wrong doing what he was doing right now. He knew that Kurt might never forgive him for betraying his trust. But he also knew that what had happened to him, well what he suspected that had happened to him, should not be kept a secret, for Kurt's sake. No one should handle that sort of thing on his own. No one could. That's why Finn was hovering after rehearsal for whole twenty minutes trying to come to the right decision. He finally decided that he should tell Mr. Shue about it, and now he can't even come out with one single coherent sentence to speak up his mind…

Will looked at him in a confused and somewhat worried look and waited for him to continue.

"And that person doesn't want anyone to know… but you don't think that he should keep it to himself. But he doesn't want you to tell anyone, and he made you swear not to tell and you swore on your mother's life and the life of the unborn child you thought was yours and –"

"Wow, wow…. Finn, slow down" Will was starting to get really worried now and as hard as tried, he just didn't understand what the hell Finn was talking about. "Start at the beginning".

Finn took a deep breath, waited a couple of minutes, and started over. "I found out something about someone at school…" He tried again. "Well, I didn't actually find out – he told me. But he made me swear not say anything. But what he told me… what I think had happened to him… I don't think it's a good idea to keep it a secret." He looked down at his shoes. It still felt wrong, coming here, confiding in Mr. Shue; betraying Kurt's trust like this. How can something feel so right and so wrong at the same time?

"Finn, I don't know what you're talking about here… what you are trying to tell me… but I do know, that sometimes what people want isn't necessarily what's best for them. And you have to decide what's more important – doing what you think is best for them, even if it means losing their trust or doing what they want –"

"It's Kurt." He blurted out.

"What?"

"It's Kurt. The other day during rehearsal…" He didn't even have to explain, Will knew immediately what he was referring to. "When I found him, he was really upset. He was crying and mumbling, how he didn't mean to hurt Rachel. He wasn't making a lot of sense." He paused for a few seconds still trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing.

"Go on" Will encouraged him to continue.

"I think something happened to him on Friday."

"What do you mean?"

"He said that he wasn't a fag…" Will suddenly had the sense of where the conversation was headed. He didn't like it. "And then he took off his shirt… there were bruises all over his body. Not the kind he would get from football practice or from being tossed into the dumpster…"

_The dumpster? What was he talking about?_

"But the worst thing –" Finn went on, and Will couldn't help but think what could possibly be worse than that. "Some one cut the word 'fag' on his body"

"What?!!" Will nearly shouted. "What do you mean 'cut'?"

"Cut… like in – someone took a knife and cut him." Oh God. The mere thought of it made Will a bit nauseous. Who would do something like that?

"I asked him if there was more… you know… if something else had happened…." Finn couldn't even say the words out loud, but Mr. Shue's slight nod of his head told him he understood him perfectly well. "But he didn't say. And now I don't know what I'm supposed to do… and he won't even talk to me –"

"You did the right thing, Finn. If Kurt had been… attacked…" Will chose his words carefully "I don't think he should handle it on his own".

"What are you going to do?" It was the question that Will dreaded. Why do kids always think that just because you are older, a 'grownup', you'd always know what to do? What could he possibly do? There is nothing that he can do that could change what had happened to Kurt or make it better. And just because he was a grownup doesn't mean that he always has the right answers. He had never dealt with anything like this before. He was totally in the dark here.

"Frankly? I don't know." He admitted. "But you did good." He added after Finn gave him a confused look. "I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll consult with Emma." He tried to assure him.

"It'll be okay." _I hope._

---

"You have to talk to his father, Will." Emma said.

"Look, I don't even know if it's true."

They were sitting in Emma's office discussing Kurt Hummel for the past 40 minutes, and the conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere. Will knew that Emma was right. Deep down he knew that eventually he will have to talk to Kurt's dad. He was just stalling, buying some more time. Talking to Kurt's father, meant talking to Kurt first, and he didn't know if he was up to it, if he could give Kurt the support he needed.

"Will, you said it yourself – he seemed hurt, as in actual physical pain, at glee rehearsal. If he is not talking to anyone about it, it probably means that if he is hurt he in not doing anything about that either. He obviously needs help. We can help him here at school. But if he had been sexually assaulted like you suspect, his father's support is going to be a big, crucial part in his recovery. He has to know."

Will knew she was right. That's why he had come to her in the first place. She was the guidance counselor after all – it's what she does.

"I know… I know… you're right. But I'll have to talk to Kurt first. But you should have seen him… at rehearsal he was so…." He was struggling to find the right words to describe him "Not Kurt. And the other day in Spanish class…"

_Flashback_

Kurt was sitting in Mr. Shue's Spanish class staring out the window. He hadn't moved for the past 10 minutes and seemed oblivious to everything that was going on around him. It still hurt to sit, it really hurt, but he had become accustomed to the pain and he was pretty sure that people couldn't tell that he was suffering.

Mr. Shue was looking at him sort of differently – he knew he wanted to talk to him after the whole Rachel incident at glee rehearsal the other day, and he was doing his best to avoid it – so far he had been successful.

Right now he was looking out the window, watching the drizzle. The weather was so much like it was on Friday… just before… The thought about it made him sick to his stomach and he had to swallow hard twice just to make sure he wouldn't throw up all over the floor. He already vomited at school once, after he'd foolishly gotten drunk and it ended with his dad coming to pick him up from the nurse's office. That was so humiliating. And this… this is so much worse.

So he tried to clear his head and concentrate on the Spanish, Mr. Shue was trying to teach – they were learning conditions – but the more he had tried to focus the more he felt like his head was going to explode. Nothing was getting through to him, so he just settled for staring out the window again.

"Okay everyone. Put down your books" Kurt heard Mr. Shue say. It sounded like he was speaking to him underwater – he didn't seem to comprehend what he was saying.

"Kurt, you too"

"What?" He asked softly.

"Put your book away." _Was class over so soon? He was really out of it._ He made a move to grab his back pack and get up to leave the class, when he noticed that nobody else was getting ready to leave, so he sat back down, hearing his classmates snickering at his reaction.

"This is a pop quiz….. wow… okay… settle down…" Will said to quiet the room of unhappy teenagers down.

"But I'm not prepared"

"This is why it's called a pop quiz." Will answered calmly as he handed out the test. "You have thirty minutes. Good luck."

Kurt stared at the sheet of paper in front of him for ten minutes. He read and reread the questions, but it was like they were written in Chinese. He started to answer the first question fifteen minutes into the exam, but he had to erase it and rewrite it and erase it again until he made a whole in the paper.

He got up abruptly causing everybody to look at him. He walked over to Mr. Shue's desk and handed the paper with only his name written on it.

_End of flashback_

"You should have seen him, Emma. He looked so…. So… sad…. I'm not sure that confronting him about what had happened is the best thing right now."

"I understand your concerns, but if Kurt Hummel was sexually assaulted, or worse" she emphasized that last word "confronting him about it might be the first step towards recovery."

"You're right." He finally admitted out loud "I'll talk to Kurt after school today, and then we will both tell his father."

"Let me know if you need my help." She said to Will smiling a little, letting him know she was there for him.

"Thanks Emma. You've been a great help, as always…" He smiled back.

---

Will tried to find Kurt after school, but the kid just seemed to disappear. He knew he was avoiding him – he probably thought he wanted to talk to him about what had happened with Rachel the other day. Knowing that made Will feel even worse – he hated that he had to confront Kurt like that about something that might be the worst experience in his life. He hated even more that the poor kid will probably not see it coming.

But it needed to be done, he was sure of it now, after his conversation with Emma earlier. So he made a deal with himself – tomorrow, he will talk to Kurt about it tomorrow, no matter what.

But right now, all he wanted was to go home. He went out side and silently cursed when he realized that it was raining and he had left his umbrella in his car that morning. He started running towards the parking lot holding his back pack over his head to cover himself from the rain. It was useless. He almost made it to his car and then saw something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Kurt was sitting by his car, oblivious to the rain. His black car was covered in a white graffiti – the word 'fag' was written all over the car's doors. On its roof someone wrote 'cock sucker' and Will prayed that Kurt, who wasn't too tall, somehow missed it. Kurt was holding a small rag over a bucket, squeezed it and tried to clean out the spiteful words. He was obviously crying – he was alternately wiping the car with the rag and wiping the tears with the back of his hand.

The sight of him broke Will's heart. How can somebody hate someone so much? He sighed heavily.

He closed the distance between himself and Kurt and sat beside him. He tried to figure of something to say to the kid, but came out empty. So he just grabbed another rag from the bucket and helped Kurt clean his car.

They worked together in silence for a few minutes, before Will put down the rag and sat on the called wet ground. He leaned against the car facing the school. Right now might be as good time as any to talk to Kurt.

He observed Kurt for a few seconds. He was still crying softly, but he made no effort to wipe away the tears this time. He also noticed the way he was hunched over, the way his jaw was clenched and the way he shut his eyes every time he cleaned a spot a little out of his reach and had to stretch his arm out. He was obviously in pain. How could he have missed it before? He also noticed that Kurt was shaking hard, but that could be explained by the cold, the kid was soaking wet by now. His clothes were damp and stuck to his body, his hair obscuring his eyes.

"Kurt…." Will finally broke the silence "What happened on Friday?"

Kurt's reaction was immediate and unmistakable – he stopped cleaning the car, his arm stayed put right where it was. His whole body tensed up and he was shaking even harder now. Will didn't think that was even possible. He did not answer.

"Kurt, what happened on Friday?" He tried again, bending slightly over and trying to meet kurt's eyes. But Kurt just went back to cleaning his car.

"Kurt, stop."

"I can't…." He said quietly, his voice sounded so small, so broken.

"What happened?"

Kurt slowly turned to face him. His eyes were blood shot and glassy, and Will wondered if he had a fever. His face was so pale and his lips had a slight tinge of blue to them.

"I….." Kurt tried to answer "I… I was…." His breath was getting faster now. "I was…." He tried again. He couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud.

Will saw Kurt's effort to talk to him, to answer his simple question. He noticed how his breathing became faster and faster, coming in and out in short shallow breaths. He was hyperventilating. He noticed the plea in his eyes, the struggle to get the words out. He was wrong. Kurt wasn't ready to talk about what had happened – even if he wanted to, it was obvious he just couldn't.

"It's okay, Kurt, just breathe." He tried to calm him down. "In and out…. Nice and slowly, just breathe. It's okay."

And then just like that Kurt crumpled. It started out in small quiet sobs and then, once the damns were broken, it all came out. The only problem was that once he started he couldn't stop. He was sobbing so hard, his whole body was shaking. He tried to draw in deep breaths and calm himself down, but he just couldn't.

"It's okay…." Will said again and pulled Kurt into a hug. At first he tensed upon the feeling of someone touching him, but then he allowed himself to be supported and leaned into him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's okay…. It's okay…. You're safe…." Will whispered in his ears as he held him tight, drawing big circles on Kurt's back. He could feel the tremors that went through his body even through several layers of clothes.

They sat like that for a few minutes, until Kurt's sobs subsided into silent crying again. His breathing coming in short gasps. Will's whole body ached from sitting on the cold ground without moving for a long time, but he did not break free.

After a while, Kurt finally calmed down and pushed himself away, wiping his face. He looked at him, and Will noticed that his eyes, although red and puffy from all the crying, were also kind and grateful.

"You okay?" Will asked. Kurt nodded and with great effort pulled himself up. The world tilted slightly as he stood and he had to lean against his car until the feeling of vertigo subsided.

"Come on. I'll drive you home."

"It's…. my… car…" Kurt said, his breath coming in short gasps, as he still tried to get his breathing under control after crying like that.

"I'll drive your car. I don't think you should be driving."

---

When they got into Kurt's car, Kurt turned the heat fully on. He then leaned heavily against the passenger seat, resting his head against the cold window. "I live over 17th Main St." He said and closed his eyes.

They drove in silence for almost 10 minutes until they reached Kurt's house.

"Kurt? We're here… "Will said as he pulled into the Hummel's driveway. The kid had fallen asleep as soon as they left the school parking lot. He hated to wake him up. He was probably so exhausted.

"Kurt?" He shook him gently.

"Wha' –?" Kurt's eyes fluttered slowly, glazed and unfocused. He stared at Mr. Shue for a few seconds trying to remember where he was.

"We're here" Will said softly. He turned the switch off and exited the car.

"What happened?!" Mr. Hummel suddenly bellowed. He got home a few minutes earlier and stood by the window as he heard Kurt pull into the driveway. The sight that greeted him chilled him to the bone.

His son's car was scratched, probably keyed and covered with graffiti. But what scared him the most was that as the lights were turned off he noticed that it wasn't Kurt, who was driving the car. His son was a sleep in the passenger seat, and his teacher, Mr. Shuester was the one driving. He had that awful sense of dread that something bad had happened. He stormed out of the house just as Mr. Shuester was getting out of the car.

"What the hell happened to the car?" Mr. Hummel asked again, this time turning to Kurt, who was still fighting his sleep as he got out of the car. His movements were slow and lethargic. He looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet his father's kind and worried eyes.

Kurt went straight past his dad, fighting the urge to just hold onto him and to never let go. "I'm going to go and change into something dry." He said in a weary voice and moved towards the house. Mr. Hummel waited until the door closed behind Kurt before addressing his son's teacher.

He grabbed Mr. Shuester's upper arm to stop him from going inside just yet. "What happened?" Mr. Hummel asked in a low quiet voice.

"Mr. Hummel, I think we better get inside. There is something I need to tell you."

---

A/N – Hi, Please don't hate me… but I'm not sure I'll be continuing this Fic. It's going to be really crazy for me with work, and working and school stuff. And for those of me who know me (or my stories) – then you know I'm terrible with updating/finishing my stories. I just needed to get this last part out of my system. I was supposed to start this huge paper for school this Saturday, but instead I was too busy with this update.

So don't wait for any updates soon – I just don't want you to be disappointed. And as I mentioned before – if _you_ feel like continue writing this story, you are more than welcome.

Pleas, please (pretty please) don't hate me…

Michal


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